Mama knows Best.....Right??

Sometimes I would rather let other people make the decisions. Sometimes Mama knows nothing at all.

I ask God for wisdom all the time.....and rarely feel like I receive it.

Take the other night, for instance. Arianna was miserable and sick, and very difficult to care for. She didn´t know what she wanted, she asked for food she refused to eat, for drinks she refused to even take one sip of. All she wanted was to sit with Mama; "Mama zitten, Mama zitten!".
So, I took her out of her crib and let her sit with me. She was so feverish, so pathetic. I wanted to fix it for her. When she asked for "pap" (papillas/liquid cereal) in the middle of the night, I went down to the kitchen to make it for her. Countless times. Then, out of breath and back upstairs, I would offer it to her only to get it pushed into my face. That, and kicks, and screams. Well, Daniel put an end to it, and I just cried.

All I could see was my little suffering Ari. All the screaming & kicking & refusing food.... I thought, "whatever....she´s upset...poor baby!!" Bathing was another huge drama: it has been for weeks. She used to love baths and now she dreads it: she fights with all her might to get out of it. (for reasons related to poo, methinks... because she accidentally pooped in there twice over and was quite alarmed by it). My approach is more indulging: I try to avoid the conflict, to appease her.
Daniel, however, told me that this was nothing but manipulation on the part of little Aribou: will-power and temper-tantrums. He said I could only see a poor little lamb, while she was acting out her toddler-terrors. My answer, "but she´s sick, Daniel!!"
He said we needed to put an end to it, before establishing bad patterns. And he may have been right. So, the next time she asked for "pap", we denied her. I felt like yelling at Daniel, telling him he was being cruel. We left her in her crib, crying and protesting. I cried on the staircase. It seemed so wrong. But her cries stopped after a few short minutes.....and when we came back to check on her later, she was fast asleep. Moreover, she slept more soundly that night than any of the other flu-nights before it.

So, what is the right approach? I think Daniel is the stricter parent. I can be very stern with Ari, but this is mostly related to "danger": so, when she does something dangerous (like playing too close to the oven), I often snap at her and pull her away. In other areas, I give in to her demands quite often. So, if she wakes up repeatedly and decides that she wants to sit with me for a while, I go to her and take her out of bed.

Sometimes, I choose the easy, short-term solution: if holding her makes her happy, I hold her. It is a type of conditioning and it is not always the wisest approach. It´s easier than setting boundaries. But boundaries are often necessary.

That´s one of the lessons motherhood has taught me in these two years: sometimes doing what´s best & beneficial to our children doesn´t feel right. Sometimes, it´s the hardest choice. But then we see her face a little bit later, and we know we´ve done the right thing. Or we see that.....suddenly.......she does eat her meals, she does go to sleep without complaint. And it makes everything better for everyone.

All this just to say that I feel so stupid, so unsure, all the time. And I just want to do things the right way. There are things, aspects of parenting, that I am very confident in. But other situations make me feel clueless. Toddlerhood, in general. How to deal with cute kids who behave badly? That´s harder than waking up every 4 hours to feed a newborn. How to be consistent & fair? This is no piece of cake, I tell you.

The Mask and other Unpleasantries

The flu has hit us, too. Daniel, Ari, and I left our village-house in order to escape from the flu. Our house-mate was sniffly and sickly, and we figured it would be foolish to stay there. All in vain, or too late, anyhow, because we woke up on Saturday morning with a horrid case of the flu. All three of us. Chills, fevers, body-aches, coughs. All that good stuff.

I am just going to tell you the whole story. Take it or leave it.

I got my achy & sweaty self into the car and drove to the emergency-section of the local hospital.. A doctor's visit would have been easier, but that was not an option on a Saturday. At the hospital, I was swiftly directed to the labor & delivery-floor. Not for my own labor, of course, but for the routine check-ups necessary for pregnant flu-patients. They handed me a mask, scoffing and fussing, because I had not been given one before. It was the start of a LONG and lousy day of check-ups, waiting, blood-analyses, and more waiting. I told them about the aches, the chills, and the wheezy coughs... and they took my temperature. Then, I was sent out into the old and unfriendly hallway. Mask and all. Everyone stared at me: some with looks of pity, but most with the expected dread of, "ew....there's the flu....she better keep her distance!".

No comfy chairs, no magazines, no water fountain. It was two thirty in the afternoon (14:30), and I had no idea they would keep me there all day.

Most of the people there were waiting to meet their newborn children, cousins, godchildren. It was strange to be in the place where I would have to give birth to my own baby just 2 months from now. I didn't like it. I didn't like seeing the fathers outside in the hallway. That's not where they were supposed to be. Call me fussy, or picky, or difficult...but I didn't like anything about the hospital and its employees. I wanted to go back to the daisy-room where Ari first breathed and cried and greeted us. With my sister to do the caring and checking-up.

Anyway, they called me back in and put me on the baby-monitor. This involves laying on a bed for half an hour with two big elastic bands around the belly, which keep a heart-beat monitoring device in place. There it was: the loud beating of my daugther's heart.
I was parched. The nurse only came in to check on me once or twice, and I finally asked her for some water.

Having finished that procedure, they sent me down for blood-tests and a doctor's check-up. That was worse, still. Not allowed to sit in the triage-section, I crept into a little cold corner of the hallway, sat on the floor and wondered if I was in the right place at all. Apparently, I was supposed to be in the waiting-room for relatives, but how was I supposed to know??
They don't tell you anything.

So, after a lot of waiting and sighing and sweating underneath my flu-mask, I got called in for blood-tests. They pinched me, mixed my blood with different fluids, and told me to wait for the results.
The doctor checked my lungs, my throat, my temperature, and told me that I would need to make a decision: she wanted to do an X-ray to see if I had pneumonia or some other lung-problem, but she would need my consent for this. Not what I wanted to hear. In tears, I called Daniel and told him that I just didn't know what to do. I asked him to get in touch with my sister, to ask for her opinion. There we were, all of us on the phone together, sort of: he skyped my parents, who happened to be on the phone with my sister already (blessed coincidence). She gave me the go-ahead: told me that they would need to protect my belly as well as they could, but that it was important to see if anything was wrong.. And that the risks were lower, as I was already this far along. I still felt miserable: I didn't like having to be the one to consent to something that could potentially harm my child. But I signed the form.

Meanwhile, the blood-results were back, and they put me on a drip with some sort of liquid: to boost my electrolyte-levels, as, apparently, they were much too low. (electrolyte-levels, as in minerals and salts...potassium,etc.) I rolled my eyes and thought, "DUH, idiots! I haven't had anything to eat or drink since this morning....."
Then I was rolled to the X-ray room by a particularly bitchy nurse. Excuse my language, but there was nothing nice about her. She looked like she was about 20 years old, and she was the worst kind of rude. And asking, "but you're pregnant, why are you getting an X-ray?? Don't you know how dangerous that is??" I wanted to punch her in the face. I was still on that drip, and the X-ray technician (friendlier than the nurse, thankfully) helped me as I struggled to get my long-sleeve shirt & everything else off, with the drip-tube (wire, hose???) attached to my arm. It nearly pulled the whole thing out, and my blood was running into the tube. She put several protective "shields" in front of my belly and back. Said I was well-covered. That was that.
They pushed me back to the drip-waiting room in a wheelchair. I wore a hospital-robe. It was all very "ER".

The drip was removed, but I'd need more blood-tests. So, they pinched me twice more. Once in my wrist, leaving it all bruised. Then in my other arm. Tubes and tubes of blood. Just to see if I was okay.

Apparently, the drip fixed my electrolyte-level, and the doctor finally released me to go back to the labor&delivery-department. The X-ray results were good, too. No lung-problems, then.
It was midnight! No one had offered me a meal or a drink or anything that a pregnant woman might need after 10 hours of being pinched. I had to get a bag of almonds from the vending-machine. Thank you very much. So, back to the baby-monitor. A hyper male midwife hooked me back onto the monitor, and asked how far along I was. He touched my belly and said the baby seemed small for her age. The ultrasounds have shown no such thing, though.
Anyway, the monitor started to make loud sounds, and the nurses came in to see what was wrong. I said, "she's kicking a lot." They stood there and looked at the reading of the heart-beat and noticed the noises were rhythmic: Baby just had the hiccups.

Got into the car at 12:40 (AM!), mask still in place, all gross and warm. They let me go without any definitive answers regarding my flu. I asked them, "so, is this the swine-flu??" And the doctor just said it could very well be, but that it was unnecessary to actually test me for that. So, for all the blood they took from me, they couldn't go ahead and screen me for the virus. Too much of a hassle, too expensive. Apparently, my symptoms were not alarming enough. No, but they thought it necessary to keep me at the hospital all day!! Weird, WEIRD system.

Spaniards have a tendency to be alarmists when it comes to disease... Antibiotics are prescribed for the most insignificant malaise. But then the doctors can be so useless. They give you no information unless you insist on receiving some very clear answers. Usually, they just send you home with more questions.

In my experience with prenatal check-ups, especially, I have been so frustrated. They would check the most irrelevant things and leave the more important matters unanswered/unevaluated. For instance, they always make a huge deal about how much weight I have gained, but then they've only checked the size of my belly/uterus once!! I'd understand the obsession with the weight-gain if I were obese, but COME ON! How about my baby's growth, huh??? HUH?!?!?!?!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So, we've all been lounging around Daniel's parents' house (infecting them, doubtlessly :-( ), trying to keep the fevers down with the usual remedies. Ari had high fevers several days in a row, but I was not about to send her to the emergency-room again. (I already took her to the doctor on Friday...which kept us for only 4 hours). No, not after what they did to me. That sounds really dramatic, maybe, but it's just not worth waiting for HOURS only to be told to "drink plenty of liquids and take paracetamol". No, we could have figured that one out for ourselves! And hospital waiting-rooms are full of very sick people. With germs. Without masks.

Sickish

The child is sick. Poor baby. Whereas she usually remains active & cheerful during fevers, Ari is having a lousy day today. She is flu-ish and doesn´t know what to do with herself. Likewise, I don´t know what to do with her. "A yoghurt, Ari? Some orange juice?" She just answers, "yes, no, yes, no"... crying and fussing and suffering in the meantime. At one point, she just wanted to sleep. She is slow and miserable today...and so am I.

I would wish it upon myself, rather than watching her fight a fever and a flu... But then I remember that I have another daughter, hiding in there. So, it´s not like I wish a flu upon her.

I finally suggested that Ari help me make some fresh Orange Juice, and she accepted. She even agreed to drink a cupful of it.

We have a house full of sick people, so I suppose it was to be expected. Probably the swine flu, which is no big deal, in general, but is more alarming for those of us who are pregnant and/or young.

Just wish I knew when to take her to a doctor. Whenever I do take her to the doctor, it ends up being a waste of time. I just need to know what is harmless and what is not.

Apart from that, Fall´s arrival has been most welcome. I baked a Pumpkin Bread several days ago to celebrate.

I think you´re crazy......baby

I had the strangest outburst of emotions yesterday, at the strangest and most inconvenient place, namely, the grocery store.

Daniel and I borrowed his parents´car to stock up on groceries. It must have started there: manoeuvering a stick-shift again after 3 months of automatic (& simple) driving was rather unnerving. I had to remind myself that I did pass the test and that I shouldn´t be so nervous, but I was.

So. We arrived at the store and loaded up the cart. Then, I had to use the store´s restroom (thank goodness they had one). Well, Daniel summoned me, because I still had his wallet in my purse, and he was already checking out. For some odd reason, this made me burst out with laughter. I quickly ran to the check-out counter, where a bunch of waiting customers were about to witness the most embarassing display of nervous hilarity. First, I giggled. Daniel gave me one of those, "is everything alright up there (in your head)?" stares. Then, I started to snort....once....twice...and again. All the while, I laughed so loudly and so uncontrolledly. We paid & got out of there. Then, having put everything in the car, I started to cry. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was a mess. An emotional mess. I sat there, at the steering wheel, and sobbed... and felt so embarassed. Humiliated. It had been such a strange experience.
Granted, I have always had trouble controlling my laughter. But this time, there was nothing to really spur it on. It just happened. And I could do nothing about it. I must have seemed drunk, or high, or just completely insane. Daniel was rather gracious, thankfully. He could have gotten terribly angry for being humiliated like that, for having to stand by and watch as his wife lost her mind for a while, but he just told me to take a deep breath. I did... and the tears stopped, after a while.

(Thankfully, Ari wasn´t there to see me lose my mind. She was busy playing with playdough at grandma & grandpa´s house.)

It must have been the most dramatic of my emotional outbursts: the most extreme & spontaneous. But, as Daniel said, tears&laughter are linked...they´re so close together. I am going to blame it on the pregnancy. Sure, I am always a bit silly....but I think this was hormonal. Crazy hormones. They´ve been especially crazy this time around....

Baby Shower, Shadows, and Some Other Things...

On Saturday, October 10th, Allyson and my mother-in-law threw me a Baby Shower in the form of a Brunch. I am fond of brunches, and was delighted that Daniel, Ari, and I were going to have one with his family. I made a Coffee Cake to share. Then we got to my in-laws´house, and voila, it was no ordinary brunch. It was a Baby Shower! I knew it would happen at some point, because Allyson is so very thoughtful and organizes parties and surprises for people. I knew she would organize something for me this time around,too. Of course, I didn´t know that she had been all sneaky and organized this with my mother-in-law.. Daniel was in on it, too. He planned to go to the studio to record some music while the women brunched, but was recruited to take care of the kids, which he does well. It was lovely.
I will post a photo later.

Ari discovered her shadow some days ago. We were at the playground, and she suddenly pointed at her shadow and said, "Anana walking!". She then stared and stared while she walked around and her shadow followed. At first, it was all very intriguing & fun. Then, she became a little frightful, because it just wouldn´t leave her alone! She tried to outrun it, to step to the side and leave it behind, but nothing worked, of course...to her frustration.

Me&Belly, at 31 weeks...

Today marks 32 completed weeks of pregnancy. Where has the time gone? Two more months, and the belly will go, leaving me with a brandnew baby daughter. It is a strange thing, losing that belly. Part of me will grieve its loss. No, the walking like a duck can go.... so can the pelvic pains, the itchy skin. But I will miss those kicks, the waves underneath my skin. I will miss Ari´s fascination with the belly and the "baby sister" hiding within it. I will miss the friendliness of strangers, who offer me their seats on the metro... who help me with the stroller. The togetherness. The mystery.

But I´ll have my baby girl in my arms.... I´ll see her face and I´ll finally know her. I´ll know what it´s like to have two children, and to love them with equal intensity... and I´ll see how Ari experiences sisterhood. Those are the changes that make everything so beautiful....

Motherhood, Love, and Autumn

Two years into this motherhood-thing, I have discovered that it is very much like courtship. The process of getting to know that person, of falling in love: well, motherhood follows the same pattern. I suppose I speak for myself, but I think most people might experience it in much the same way.
When I was pregnant with Ari, I started to dream of her, of what it would be like to have her in my life. It resembles the first cycle of courtship, then. Curiosity and idealism toward that new special person, who is still mysterious and unknown.
Then, at birth (or the beginning of the actual courtship, to further my illustration), that person is there, in the middle of your world. It's love and thrill and adventure: discovery and enlightenment, and feeling completely enthralled by the closeness with that other being, and...mostly...complete. That is what it felt like to meet my Ari. It felt so similar to starting my relationship with Daniel. It becomes enough....for a while, anyhow.

You see, then the months and the years go by, and the sparkle and newness of having that bond with another person becomes a little bit less magical. It doesn't go away completely: it's not falling out of love, but the bubble bursts a little bit. Not because you lose your capacity to love with such enthusiasm, but rather because you start to realize that there is more to being "complete". More than finding oneself in another person.

This is all so melodramatic, again... It is such an easy mood for me to fall into.
This isn't a sad declaration of disillusionment at all. I am still so glad to be a mother, so fond of my babies, and still so content with my marriage-relationship. But there is the need to find contentment within my own self, too. See, I love so easily. I get inspired and become so intensely alive at times. Other people (my children, my husband, my family & friends) have that effect on me. But the feeling wears off. And then you wonder if there is anything else in the world at all to be so content with.

All this drama to say that it has been an interesting wake-up call. One that I didn't really expect. Two years after becoming a full-time mother, I feel the curiosity to know what else is out there. At the same time, I expect I will go through the same infatuation-phase with my new baby: I'll be so consumed by that post-partum buzz.... (that's right, I never suffered from the common baby-blues.... on the contrary) It might last for a year or so. And then I'll be back where I am today. And I'll be forced to find something else to pour myself into. Work, I guess. Or some creative outlet.
*******************************************************************************
We're in the middle of October and the weather is just not cooperating. It's freezing and snowing in the North of Europe, as it should, as fits the season. The skies of Spain just can't seem to make up their mind. I've started to put on Christmas-music, much to Daniel's annoyance and disapproval, but it hasn't been very effective. I'm eager to pull out a scarf, to turn the lights on in the early afternoon.. Instead, I still have to lower the blinds to block out the sun. Sick and wrong!
This is what GRAND AUTUMN is supposed to look like:

This, too:

Sometimes I wish I could change the soundtrack of my own mind. Play a new tune. Something a little jazzier.

Envy & Options

My favorite TV programs are those in which a camera-crew follows expats around in their new habitats: usually countries far away from their motherland. I say "programs," because there are many, in Spain & Holland & elsewhere, and they all have the same effect: they inspire me to be more adventurous, to dream of starting afresh. As I watch, I become both hopeful and utterly depressed.... at once. I envy those Madrileños as they give the camera-crew a tour around Edinburgh, or Stockholm, or Auckland, or Seattle; all the places I have considered potential homes for me, Daniel, & the girls. I fuss, "Darn! why are they there & why are we still here, walking down the same old streets??"

Nothing is wrong with Madrid. On the contrary, it is a beautiful city, full of life. We have been happy here for many years and we will never quite lose our attachment to this city and this country. But there is the itch. The itch that I mention in almost every other post. Sometimes I fear that life will be incomplete if we settle. If we stay put. The dread, the fear of losing the chances of trying life out in another context. Having children (2 children!ah!) complicates it all, but I never really put that dream aside. Every few days, the subject comes up in our conversations, and Daniel (more pragmatic by the day) usually puts an end to it. Not now. Let´s just stick with the plan; Holland is next. And I was happy with that plan. It seems thrilling, even. But it is familiar. It is not as adventurous as venturing into a new continent. And I seem to think that nothing so "normal" is really good enough.

The topic of emigration comes up whenever Daniel & I visit my family. The discussion takes on different forms depending on the family we´re with:
*My parents understand the feeling... they´ve been in that place. In fact, they were VERY close to actually moving to New Zealand as newlyweds, only to let the "family-factor" change their minds. and, let´s be honest, 30 years ago, such a move would have been much more permanent. Anyhow, as much as they can sympathize with us, they are always a lot more excited about the idea of our return to Holland (for all the obvious reasons).
*My sister & bro-in-law are quite settled. They have done their share of traveling, as well, but they live without all that restlessness that comes with thinking that the grass is greener on the other side....and, sometimes I really wish I felt the same. To be content with the here and the now. To be practical.
*My brother & sis-in-law sometimes dream of moving, too. Hence, we always ask them whether they´ve made up their minds, whether they feel more at ease with the settled life.. and I think they struggle with the same uncertainty.

So, it turns out that this is not such a strange phenomenon. Apparently many 20-and-30-something-year-olds struggle with this dilemma. Wanting something more, something different, out of life, and not knowing exactly what or where that might be. This is probably the very feeling that those TV-programs are designed to tap into.

It is very much a problem of options. A problem, right. Our generation has a luxury-problem: too many options are available to us, making the decision-process all the more tedious. Of course, this problem is magnified for multiculturalists, TCKs, or whatever you want to call those of us who have grown up between cultures.
_________________________________________________________________

There you have it: the familiar rant. Just letting you know that this issue is still very much on my mind. My heart is heavy with the burden of it, of not knowing what I want.. Of knowing that I want adventure, but not knowing what shape that adventure should take.

Clearly, I have yet to learn the art of concise writing. Maybe I should focus my energies on perfecting this art, or on developing some particular skill. Part of my problem is that I am frustrated by aimlessness, and by not knowing whether there is any specific potential that I need to explore in order to reach that wonderful state called fulfillment.

And, finally, I am curious........do any of you know what will get you there?? Or are you already content with what you´ve achieved & where you´ve planted yourselves??

October

No longer an avid blogger, I feel rather guilty for documenting so little of this pregnancy. Today marks 30 weeks (quite a milestone, in pregnancy-terms), and I have so little to show for it. Ari has a booklong collection of entries, all dedicated to her life & and to my thoughts regarding her arrival. This baby has so little, in comparison.

The intention is there, really. I wanted to be every bit as observant this time around: commenting on all the changes, recording the little details. But then the weeks started to become blurs....monotonous days spent primarily on my firstborn, and on reorganization. Both are crucial "tasks," yes, but I wish I would have been a little more enthusiastic and diligent in preparing for the "baby sister´s" impending debut.

So, instead of writing long posts of pregnancy-observations, I have been busying myself with laundry-loads, dishes, and closet-organization. This was much overdue, I´ll admit, but I am glad to have reinstated some order in that department. Part of the nesting-instinct, perhaps?

You see, several weeks ago, I suddenly felt the urge to start washing all of the baby-clothes and linens. We have moved around (in the house), changing rooms, and I was a little too active...... there were side-stings and hard bellies. So my mind wandered and settled on an overwhelming fear of going into labor far FAR too early. This troubled me for all the logical reasons, but also convinced me that it was time to "prepare the nest", to gather and clean all the necessary clothes and blankets and sheets for baby-love. I feared having to give instructions during labor; "Daniel, find the smallest onesies, with the ribbons on the side....size 56....and the smallest socks, and this shirt and those pants! Wash them with that detergent, at those degrees, and be sure to iron everything.." Stress.
Thus, I did all the gathering and cleaning myself. I proceeded to iron and fold it all, and putting it into bags... first selecting the outfits for days 1&2, labelling those bags "hospital" accordingly. Keeping everything sterile & pristine. It made everything better, and the belly-aches have stopped.

The girl is still extremely active; from time to time, my belly shakes to her rhythm. Arianna, though surely unaware of the mammoth-changes that are ahead, has started to pay close attention to "baby zus", kissing Mama´s belly with such tenderness.... "Baby zus" is going to change all of our worlds, and I am so curious.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The summer-months were relatively uneventful, with the exception of our succesful camping trip to Cantabria, and a family-visit to the Netherlands.

Ari is a camping-trooper: she could not have made things easier for us. We were there to visit my parents, and we all delighted to see Arianna adjust to primitive tent-living and ocean-admiring. She seems as fond of the sea as we are; she didn´t mind the cold. She took all of her naps without complaint and went to sleep on schedule in the evenings, despite the noise of the Spanish children who played outside our tent until midnight.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Enough about the children. They so consume my days and my thoughtlife that it is hard to think of anything else to write. But there are other things....

For one, I am starting to think of next spring. We are planning a move back to the North, back to the Netherlands. It is exciting and a little terrifying, simultaneously. As much as I look forward to being closer to my family again, I so fear having to start from scratch. It is an adventure, yes, and that has its thrills; but the thought of having to be friendless for a while, and having to search for a job and a house and a network....well, it intimidates me. Thankfully, Daniel and I did live there for a year when we first got married, so I won´t have to be too concerned about the impact and/or the culture-shock... Daniel did not have any trouble with the language, or with the customs. With the food, perhaps... just a little. We eat a lot of bread, we, the Dutch. And a lot of potatoes.
Anyhow....these are changes.

I have set aside my dreams of returning to graduate school....for now. Now is not the time. Hopefully, there will be another chance to study, eventually. First, I will need to adjust to life as a mother of 2! TWO! aaaaaah. And to life back in the homeland, with its bikerides and sandwiches.. And work... the biggest adjustment, I think. The thought of applying for a job really intimidates me. I became a mother just weeks after I finished my graduate studies: I have never worked in my "field". And I fear that my options are few. Who is going to want to hire someone without any relevant work-experience?? Someone who has spent the last 2 years of her life changing diapers and sitting around. I have a degree, yes, but will it serve me?? It´s not going to get me too far, I fear, though I remember the inspiring "career-lists for English majors" posted all over the department-walls. So misleading. I would love to be a journalist, an editor, or publisher, a teacher of literature, a critic...... I was serious about my degree-decisions. But what is the weight of those degrees? I fear I will need to add some more initials, some more titles. Eventually, perhaps I´ll find an open door to something interesting. To a career that I will actually enjoy, to something that fits. In the meantime, I reckon I will have to take whatever job I can get.

Fall´s arrival has lifted spirits. I was done with the summer long before it was done with us. It just lingered...... hot days kept us inside our house, lethargic and grumpy. But the rain came.
October is the prettiest month, even here, where the landscape doesn´t change quite enough.
"Ganas de Otoño". Absolutely; they got it right. Ganas to dress warmly, to wear layers, to open windows to crisp morning-breezes, to eat stews, to drink hot teas and coffees and wassails whilst staring at grey autumn-skies. And to consider listening to Christmas-music, even if it is still a bit too early according to the rest of the world. To smile secretly, to say "ha!!", while everyone else mourns the loss of bright summer. Someone had to prefer the cold, the clouds, the rain, the dark underdog-season!